


Sense of Propriety

by ahimsabitches



Category: Treasure Planet (2002)
Genre: F/M, i love john's parents so much, sweet smut, these two make the cutest porn you ever did see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 06:07:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16887054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahimsabitches/pseuds/ahimsabitches
Summary: A few months after John's final voyage on the Ursa Major, he and Bonnie are settling into their new life together. John's parents own an inn, and Bonnie and John visit often.





	Sense of Propriety

John had endured that morning over coffee with his mother when the collar of his shirt had slid off Bonnie's shoulder and had come to rest dangerously low on her breast.

John had endured later in the garden with his father when Bonnie had _accidentally_ backed into his crotch with her arse in those short trousers that _clung_ so.

And John had endured that evening at supper with his parents and half the tenants of the bloody inn when Bonnie beside him, sweat still beaded on her temple like candlelit jewels, had dropped a subtle hand into his lap and had _squeezed_ there.

But John, looking straight down into the dark diamond made by the deep V of her neckline where it met the curving arc of her tits, could not endure any longer. He rose from the wingback chair by the open window, reluctant even so to leave the cool nightbreeze. “Bonnie lass?” He asked, keeping his voice steady and level, “A word witcha? In private?”

His mother, shelling peas in her own hearthside chair, cut her eyes up to him. He ignored her and tapped the ashes of his pipe out on his cybernetic arm. Bonnie glanced up from the floor in front of her on which lay a snowdrift of papers: her idea for some planetary conservation project. She blinked and smiled innocently. It only _maddened_ him more.

“Of course, John,” she chirped, rose, and followed him out of the firelit common room into the east hallway, where the breezy summer darkness squatted, heavy with juniper and jasmine.

Five steps into the hall, he whirled, and in one fluid motion that belied his bulk, he scooped his living hand around her waist, cupped her arse with his cybernetic hand, and pressed her against the wall, using his belly to hold her there. She squeaked in alarm. He burrowed his face into the hollow between her neck and her bare shoulder and sucked in a shuddery breath of her sweet warm Bonnie-scent. He groaned on the exhale, threads of her hair that had come loose from her braid tickling his nose. “ _Wicked_ lass,” he growled deep in his chest, his living hand digging up under her shirt, “fer _teasin'_ me all day.”

Bonnie's quiet little chuckle and her arms sliding around his neck dropped whitehot little embers of desire into his belly. “Well you can't blame me, John. I get so few opportunities.”

“Eh?” He drew back and cocked an eyebrow. The dim yellow light from his cybernetic eye limned the edges of her smile and lit yellow stars in her eyes. He'd lost count of the times she'd casually _manhandled_ him in public or had _accidentally_ let loose the drawstrings holding her bodice or shirt closed.

She cupped his face in her hands and drew it into a kiss. He inhaled reflexively and pressed against her, his cock twitching hand his stubby claws biting into the flesh of her waist. “This is the only place were I can trust your sense of propriety to remain intact,” she said breathlessly after they broke the kiss.

John coughed a chuckle. “What th' devil d'ye mean, lass?”

Her hands traced meandering patterns across his chest and neck and over the turning gears at his right ear. Like a dog eager for his master's affection, John nosed into her open palm and kissed it. “You know _exactly_ what I mean, you scoundrel. At the bank last week? We barely made it into the _coach,_ John. I had to tip the poor driver double; I think we bent one of his axles. And getting your skiff repaired at the pier? You dragged me below deck with the repairmen _still on board._ How can I tease you properly if you have no sense of shame?”

John barked a laugh, then snapped his mouth shut. He glanced back down the hall, alarm flaring momentarily in him, but the light and noise stayed distant.

Bonnie chuckled again and moved silkily in his arms. “See? _That's_ exactly what I mean.”

John rumbled and pulled her light summer shirt up over her head. “Sure _you_ wouldn't wanna embarrass yerself in front a' _yer_ parents, lass.” He closed his mouth over a nipple.

Bonnie gasped and arched her back against the wall, her hands fisting around handfuls of his curls. “Good thing my mother's dead and my father's content only seeing us once a blue moon,” she panted. “So the joke will continue to be on you, _mo iarann mathan.”_

“Hmmm, _wicked lass_ ,” John rumbled, and bit down gently on her nipple. She clenched her legs around his middle. Grasping her tight to him to keep her steady, he pulled them back from the wall and clunked further down the hall, eyeing the doors for an unoccupied room. They were all shut and locked; all taken. He stood at the end of the hall, gazing over Bonnie's naked shoulder out the window at the garden below.

Bonnie mewled softly. “ _Upstairs,_ John.”

An idea bloomed. He grinned in the darkness. “Up it is, lass.” He braced her against the wall and flicked through his cybernetic attachments to the delicate insect-like appendages he'd once used for picking locks and subtly puncturing flesh. They tick-clicked over Bonnie's flesh, making her squirm and giggle, and made short work of the buckle holding her summer trousers on. John gave the subtle mental command and the cybernetic hand returned. He shifted his grip on her and hoisted her above his head, settling her spread legs over his upturned face.

“John--!” She squeaked, tightening her thighs around his head to steady herself. He gripped her waist firmly and plunged his tongue into her warm wet cunt. Her salty-sweet juices dripped down his chin as he worked her, using the pad and the tip of his tongue in turns on her clit like she liked best. Her bare feet landed on his back and braced there enough for him to move his cybernetic hand down her arse and between her legs from the back. He gave another mental command and the rubbery pads on his first two fingers began to vibrate. He slid them into her just a little; he had to be careful how _wet_ his cybernetic parts got.

“ _Ghhh_ ,” Bonnie whimpered, both hands twisting in his hair. It hurt, but the pain was distant. He grinned as her body began to tense and tremble like a live wire. “Come on, love, come for me,” he said, but it came out a wordless rumble into her cunt.

She let out a quiet, desperate little peep as she came, her feet beating a staccato rhythm against his back. Her cunt pulsed wetly around his mouth and a fresh rill of fluid slid down his chin. Her ribs, bellowsing beneath his living hand, slowed their rhythm and he returned his cybernetic hand to her waist as she sagged.

He let her gently down and pulled in a grateful breath of cool air. Not that being half-drowned in her cunt wasn't _delightful._ She deposited a flurry of kisses on his stubbled face, soggy with her come, as she slid. She swayed against him when her feet hit the ground, murmuring softly.

“Eh, lass?” He asked, bending down both to place his ear close to her mouth and to get a better angle on the buckle of his trousers.  
  
“I said _upstairs,_ John. To _our room._ ” Her voice was breathless and trembly and it broke his heart and squeezed his balls at the same time.

His trousers flapped to the floor in a rush of cloth and jingle of belt. Seeing her soft, sweet curves half-limned in starlight pouring in from the window behind her and half in the rich yellow glow of his own eye, hearing the dual notes of need and satiety in her voice, tasting her on the roughness of his growing beard, he didn't think he had the strength to carry her to their room. “No, lassie,” he said, and turned her to face the window. “Here. Now.”

With a needful little groan, she placed her hands on the glass and bent forward. He guided himself into her and _oh_ it caught him off guard, how _slick_ she was, and he stumbled forward, his cybernetic hand landing above hers on the window with a sharp _CLAK_.

“ _Ah_ , sorry, lass,” he said, steadying himself.

“It's all right, love,” she purred, reaching back blindly. He caught her hand and kissed it. “Save the apologies for the poor soul who catches us like this.” she chuckled.

“Aye,” he said, and slowly eased himself into her. The feeling of filling her drew a slow, strained groan from him. His eyes rolled back in his head and his head rolled back on his shoulders and he forced a steadying breath into his lungs. He pulled out some, tried to ignore the achingly soft little moan from Bonnie, and paused, the hot red weight of lust in his belly and balls ready to burst. He panted raggedly and sprawled his cybernetic hand on Bonnie's back. She'd gained weight and width since the _Ursa Major,_ but his thumb and pinky finger still hung down the dip of her waist. “Oh Bonns, I...y'did me in t'day,” he rasped. “I'm not long fer it.”

Bonnie chuckled. “I really did torture you today, didn't I?” She turned enough for John to see one eye, starlight glittering it, and one edge of a devilish little grin.

John snorted bullishly and tightened his living hand's grip on her hip. “Aye, you surely did, _wicked_ lass.” He punched his hips forward, making her squeak. “Sssshhh, wouldn't wan' somebody t' find us out, now,” he murmured, slipping a living finger into her mouth. She took it eagerly and began to suck. He groaned and rolled his hips forward, back, forward, in a slow, burning rhythm.

Silent but for the sounds of their breathing and the gentle clicks and whirrs of John's cybernetics, they moved against each other in the thickly fragrant summer night. John, indeed, was _not_ long for it. After only a minute or two, the effort of containing himself was too great. “Ah, lass, I'm gonna--”

“ _Yes, John,”_ she hissed, and jabbed her arse backwards. He grunted hoarsely as the orgasm surged like a tide up through him, pulling him out of himself and pushing him into her, filling them both up.

Slowly, the tide of feeling ebbed and his heart slowed from a gallop to a canter, then to a sedate trot. He scooped his cybernetic hand up under her chest and lifted her top half up, curving it around his belly, and nuzzled her cheek. She murmured and flattened a soft hand over his cheek. The tips of her fingers rested against the gear replacing his right ear.

“I think you should keep letting your hair grow. And your beard. I like them long.”

“Ach, I'm already enough o'me pap,” he grunted. “Sure I'll be 'is twin 'n a few years.”

Bonnie chuckled, the sound light and musical, and a warm pink fist socked him in the guts. “I can think of far worse men to resemble than your father. Besides,” she tinked her nails against the gear on his head. “I think I'll be able to tell you two apart.”

He smiled and let her slide down to the ground. She slid off his cock with a soft sigh. She turned to face him and rested her hands on the upper swell of his belly. He gazed tt the interplay of bluewhite starlight and yellow cyber-eye light on her chest and shoulders. “All right, lassie. If it's what ye want.”

“It is,” she said, and kissed him.

 

**The next morning:**

 

Yawning, John stumped into the small private kitchen in his parents' wing of the inn, aware that the tenants might not want to see him in nothing but his undershorts. His mother sat at the small round table, a cup of tea in front of her.

“John, m'love,” his mother barked, a curious mix of irritation and amusement on her wide brown face. “I certainly hope ye' _took care_ o' dear Bonnie las' night. She's 'bout tae twist hersel' _inside out_ , tryin' t' get yer _attention_ all day, ye great dunce.”

John blinked, feeling a hot red blush creep up his cheeks. “I er...ah, aye, Mum, I...Bonnie's, eh...she's fine.”

John's father clapped a hand on his shoulder, on his way past him to the coffeepot. “Good lad,” he grumbled.

 


End file.
